Cross-Over Murders by Frank F. Atanacio Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Three Months Before The First Murder....
The rushing sound of traffic was so melodic. It helped ease the mind of a dark stranger sitting at an under path of I95. He was a watching three construction workers repairing a sound barrier fence that kept the noise out of the houses of the people who lived in the Fairfield County. He was eager to see the repairs come to a completion. He enjoyed watching the contractors do their thing. He loved to see progress taking fold. It meant a great deal to him because that was what he did for a living. That was what made him complete. That was what made him a man.
“Hey Barker, come sit with me,” shouted the foreman as he sat about four feet away from the dark stranger.
Barker sat quickly.
“Damn cars keep using that fence as a stopping barrier.”
Barker nodded.
“What’s up Barker?”
“Nothing boss.”
“Come on,” the boss insisted. “I can tell when something is bothering one of my men.
It’s obvious, so spit it out.”
“My brother lost his job,” he said.
“Mike?”
Barker nodded.
“How?”
“He was a roofer, but his boss decided to hire those under the table illegal aliens, you know the ones?”
“Non-union.”
“Non-citizens,” he corrected. “The Cross-Overs from other countries who do the same work for a lot less”
The foreman nodded.
“It’s becoming too difficult to compete,” said Barker.
“I know,” said the foreman. “My brother had a painting company, and he let all his employees go. He was paying them about forty dollars an hour, and he couldn’t make ends meet anymore. He fired them and he hired the Cross-Overs for only fifteens dollars an hour. It eased his bills, and cleared his mind. He said it was something that had to be done. I know it wasn’t fair to his legal workers, but his hands were tied.”
“If these illegal aliens continue to take over our construction jobs, small businesses are really going to hurt.”
The foreman nodded.
“What can we do?”
“To be honest with you, nothing,“said the foreman. “It’s strange for even me to say this, but Barker, they got to eat too.”
“But on our dime?”
“They work for it,” he said. “It’s not like they’re coming here to take something for nothing.”
“So we got to lower our standards?”
“If we wanna compete,” said the foreman.
“With Cross-Overs?”
“If it’s not them, they’ll be someone else.”
“Damn,” said Barker. “It’s just not fair. We need to make a living. If there was only a way we can stop them from taking our jobs.”
“We can kill them all,” said the foreman jokingly.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It was a joke.”
Barker nodded.
Kill them all?
Kill them all?
Kill them....
The dark stranger climbed a sun-soaked wooden step as he made his way out of the under-path. He had heard enough and he wanted to help. He wanted to make sure that the men who continued his trade was able to stand up strong. Be proud to finish a job to everyone’s satisfaction. To get a decent pay for a hard day’s work. He wanted to correct the mistakes that society failed to do. He wanted to make sure a hard working man was able to do his job without feeling the competition breathing down his neck. It was a simple task, and a task he had planned out in his head. He stood and looked toward the on-coming traffic. He saw construction vehicles driving by. He scanned booth sides of the highway. There were a handful of vans dotting the slow and fast lanes. He removed his shoes and socks and strolled away from the highway. Taking in tow a plan. A job that he had to carry out. In his mind, it was a job of mercy.
Kill them all?
Kill them...
Kill!
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